Bottom, Series 2

Richie:
What was it Shakespeare used to say?

Eddie:
Um…‏ "Hello my dear, I'm a playwright you know. Come on, give us a snog."

Richie:
No, no…

Eddie:
Uh, "Where's my quill! Bloody hell, I bought five yesterday! Where do they all go?"

Richie:
No, really, what was it he used to say?

Eddie:
"What do you mean, it's crap! There's eight bodies at the end and he gets to shag his Mum!"

Lily Linneker:
Hello, gentlemen, sorry to have kept you waiting. Which one of you is Mr. Hitler?

Eddie:
Oh, that'll be me.

Lily Linneker:
Any relation?

Eddie:
[puzzled] Well, I've got a mother.

Lily Linneker:
No, no no no, I meant Adolf Hitler.

Eddie:
Yes, that's her!

Lily Linneker:
Right, well, ah, let's have a look at your forms then, shall we? All right. Oh, I see - you want someone homely, with cooking skills, fun to be with… and a whazzo pair of jugs?

Eddie:
That's right.

Richie:
But obviously we're flexible.

Eddie:
Ah, but not about the jugs.

Richie:
No, we have to be firm on the jugs.

Eddie:
…And the jugs have to be very firm.

Lily Linneker:
(pointing to the television) Can you see alright?

Eddie:
(confused) No, that's why I wear glasses.

Richie:
I have excellent eyesight. Which is remarkable when you think about it.

Richie:
I really think this is the one, Eddie. Even on the telephone there was an immediate sexual tension.

Eddie:
What, you mean you felt horny and she felt tense?

Richie:
This is just my London pomme-de-terre. My main castles are scattered all over the place, you know, 'cause I never know where I'm going to be…‏ bloody fox hunts go on for ever these days, don't you find? Never know where you're going to end up. Start off in "Burke-shire", end up in, ah, eh eh, Twat-shire!

Lily Linneker:
Lady Natasha Sarah Jane Wellsley

Ritchie:
Oh, she sounds ni-

Lily Linneker:
(continuing) Obstronsky Ponsonsky Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Oblomov Boblomov Dob, Third Vicountess of Maldavia

Eddie:
Sounds great, we'll have half a dozen!

[Doing a crossword]

Eddie:
Err right. "Ironmonger", six letters. Oh, got it! "Harold".

Richie:
Harold?

Eddie:
Yeah, well he's an ironmonger, isn't he? Harold the Ironmonger, remember? We ate his dog!

Richie:
Oh right, we bloody won that bet, didn't we!

Eddie:
No, we didn't. That's why we had to eat his dog.

[How to pass the time without a TV]

Richie:
What about "Pin the Tail on the Donkey"?

Eddie:
We haven't got a donkey.

Richie:
Well, "Pin the Tail on the Chicken"

Eddie:
We haven't got a tail.

Richie:
Oh. Well, "Pin the Sausage on the Chicken"?

Eddie:
We haven't got a chicken.

Richie:
(Annoyed) Well, "Pin the Sausage on the Fridge".

Eddie:
Or a pin.

Richie:
(Angrier) "Sellotape a Sausage to the Fridge"!

Eddie:
We haven't got a sausage!

Richie:
(shouting) "Put a Bit of Sellotape on the Fridge"!

Eddie:
(Beat) It's not much of a game, is it?

[Richie and Eddie have just played stick a piece of sellotape on the fridge. Eddie won]

Eddie:
Who won?

Richie:
Ha ha ha ha. Eddie, it matters not who won or lost, but how you play the game.

Eddie:
Oh, you mean I won? Ha! Ha-ha. [wets his finger, draws a figure 1 in the air, waves his hands in the air]

Richie:
Yes, I suppose so, yeah, I mean if it's so important to you, yes. Yes, you did win. I mean for Heaven's sake, Eddie, it's only a game! [walking away, to himself] Shit, shit, VD, VD, VD!

Richie:
Molière! Molière! Oh, he could bash out a tune or two. [To a tune from The Four Seasons] Tum-tum tiddly-tum tum-tum-tum, tum - and the other twiddly bits. He was Scottish you know.

Eddie:
Who, Vivaldi?

Richie:
No Eddie, I'm talking about composers. Honestly, it's football, football, football with you, isn't it?

[Eddie is trying to teach Richie how to play chess]

Richie:
Right, let me get this sorted out. Now the bent vicar stands next to the queen. And the queen goes in every direction.

Eddie:
That's right.

Richie:
[looking disgusted] And they let children play this, you say? I mean, it's pretty strong stuff, isn't it Eddie? You know, knights taking prawns? And apparently, if a prawn goes all the way he turns into a queen!

Richie:
Eddie, do you want to be skinned alive and buggered?

Eddie:
(Pointing handgun at Richie) I'd like to see you try!

Richie:
Eddie, how did you get this drunk on one pound seventy-five?

Eddie:
There's a sale on at the chemists. Old Spice......25p a bottle.

Do your balls hang low?

Can you swing 'em to and fro?

Can you tie 'em in a knot?

Can you tie 'em in a bow?

Do you get a funny feeling when they're hanging from the ceiling?

Oh you'll never be a sailor if your balls hang low!

Richie:
I think there's someone in the drawing-room.

Eddie:
The what-room?

Richie:
The drawing-room.

Eddie:
I don't think I've been in there. What, you mean we've got a room just for drawing in?

Richie:
You're so common, aren't you? What do you call it, the snug or the saloon or something?

Eddie:
Oh, the lounge!

Richie:
That's it! Yes, the laaunge! There's someone down in the laaunge!

Eddie:
She left me on the doorstep, just me, the carry-cot, and this old revolver. Oh, and a little note that said, "Please look after my baby. I can't be bothered." She was a wonderful mother.

Richie:
How do you know?

Eddie:
I saw the article in the Police Gazette.

War Veteran:
Yeah, I was in Two Para.

Richie:
What, you went twice?

War Veteran:
What regiment was you in then?

Richie:
Well the English one of course! What are you suggesting?

War Veteran:
No, what outfit was you in?

Richie:
Well, the green patchy one most of the time. With the twigs and the bit of leaf, you know, camouflage!

Eddie:
So, ah, what did you do then?

War Veteran:
Well, I'd rather not talk about it.

Eddie:
Why, is it embarrassing? Shit your pants, did you? Cry, did you, eh?

War Veteran:
Quite the opposite, actually.

Eddie:
What, you sucked water in through your eyes?

War Veteran:
No. I took Harrison's Point single-handed.

Richie:
Oooh. That can be nasty. I shut Tucker's finger in the tank door, didn't I Eddie?

Eddie:
I don't know, this is all a load of bollocks.

Eddie:
Rightey dokey matey bloke flap old salty seadog amigo skip-jack jockstrap piano tuner, let's see you balls this one up!

Eddie:
Five hundred quid, on the nose, on Sad Ken if you please.

Bookie:
Certainly. Would you like to pay tax?

Eddie:
Well of course I wouldn't. What a ridiculous question!

Richie:
You'll have to excuse Eddie, his mind's sort of blanked it out.

War Veteran:
What, 'cos it's so horrible?

Richie:
No, he's just got that sort of mind.

Richie:
Right, quick, into the lavs! (toilets)

Eddie:
Richie, no! It's illegal! Besides, you'll never make 500 quid that fast - you'll be lucky to get 10p a go!

Richie:
Have you ever read The Joy of Sex?

Barmaid:
No, I don't read things like that.

Richie:
Well that's okay, we can just look at the pictures!

Eddie:
My Uncle Percy was in the trenches of the first world war. You know what he used to say?

Richie:
What?

Eddie:
"AAAH! Bloody hell! Germans! Thousands of 'em! There all going shoot me! AAAAH! Mummy, I want to go home! AAAAHHH! AAHHH! AAHHH!."

Richie:
(While slapping Eddie): Eddie, Shut up! Just shut up! Shut up!

Richie:
Right now look, there's only five hours until lunch, I've got to get my sprouts on. Don't want them all crunchy.

Eddie:
Not sprouts! I hate sprouts.

Richie:
Oh, will you stop whinging Eddie! Nobody likes sprouts!

Eddie:
Then why are we having them then!?

Richie:
Because it's Christmas!!!

Richie:
Well, it's the season of goodwill and peace on Earth, so I thought I'd chop both its feet off, rip out its innards, strip it, shove an onion up its arse and bung it in a very hot place for four hours until its completely burnt.

Richie:
I've got to get in to my kitchen! Here's a can of spray snow, you make everything look all Christmassy, I'll go and scrub my sprouts.

Eddie:
I thought you were gonna do some cooking?

Richie:
Now, Eddie - crackers?

Eddie:
Yes. But it's never stopped me so far!

Richie:
No, I mean have you got the crackers?

Eddie:
No, it's just the way my trousers hang.

Richie:
Eddie, enough of the crackers jokes. I'm talking about the things you put in your hand and pull.

Eddie:
Well I've got one of those, but I'm not gonna stick it on the table!

Spudgun:
Oh, what's that smell?

Eddie:
That's lunch.

Spudgun:
Oh thank God for that. I thought I'd had an accident.

Richie:
Come on, let's just our tackle out, I mean, get our gear out, I mean, get our equipment out -- oh God, you can't say anything without some dreadful double entendre lurking around the corner!

Richie:
What was that film where they ate each other?

Eddie:
Deep Throat, wasn't it?

Eddie:
Hang on...This is Wimbledon Common isnt it?

Richie:
Yes.....

Eddie:
I wonder how much meat you get on a Womble...

Richie:
Eddie, Wombles don't exist.

Eddie:
Oh, yes they do! I've seen them on the telly!

Richie:
Eddie, would tragically and brutally scar you for life if I told you that they were just puppets?

Eddie:
It would a bit, yeah.

Richie:
Good - EDDIE THEY WERE JUST PUPPETS❗

Richie:
Night-Night, Sleep Tight. Hope the bed bugs do not bite. If they do, do a poo. Put it in a Cornish Stew. Into the ambulance, dring-dring-dring! Fish trousers elephant in Peking. Saw a busy bee; Diddle-diddle-dee. Daddy's an accountant just like me. Night-Night, God Bless.

Richie:
I think there's something outside...

Eddie:
Well there's bound to be something outside, Richie. You can't expect the universe and its entire contents to be contained within the confines of a small canvas tent.

Richie:
You're very philosophical for this time of night, Eddie.

Eddie:
Well, I've had half a bottle of scotch, whaddya expect?

Eddie:
Right, how much for this carved wooden leg?

Harry the Bastard:
Now, there's a nice bit of objet d'art! Must be worth at least two and a half grand.

Eddie:
Oh!

Harry the Bastard:
I'll give you one pound fifty for it.

Eddie:
Let's haggle.

Harry the Bastard:
All right, a quid.

Eddie:
No, let's haggle upwards.

Harry the Bastard:
All right, 50p!

Eddie:
Blimey, they don't call you "Harry the Bastard" for nothing, do they?

Harry the Bastard:
No, they call me Ted!

Old Man:
7p on Sad Ken, please.

Bookie:
7p?

Old Man:
Yeah, it's all Harry the Bastard would give me for my house.

Richie:
(Singing) God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember... erm...

(When a baby is left on the doorstep.)

Spudgun:
Poor little mite. What a way to spend your first Christmas!

Eddie:
What? Lying on your back with a bottle in your mouth? It sounds pretty good to me.

Spudgun:
I think his nappy needs changing.

Richie:
What?

Eddie:
Yeah, go on Richie. I mean, you're his... mother.

Richie:
Ah, come on, guys! This is the twentieth century, it's not fair!

Spudgun:
But we are not worthy, oh holy one.

Eddie:
Yeah, yeah that's right, oh chosen thing.

Hedgehog:
Right, oh one... what he said.

Richie:
What do you mean, "what he said"? I thought you were supposed to be a wise man!

Spudgun:
Merry Christmas everyone.

Richie:
Yes, Merry Christmas one and all! [Spudgun and Richie gulp their drinks down; Eddie throws his over his shoulder.]

Hedgehog:
What, is it Christmas? Today? Oh, Merry Christmas then. That must be why that woman gave me that after-shave this morning.

Eddie:
What woman?

Hedgehog:
Oh, you know, that old woman who keeps hanging around the place. You know Eddie, what's her name; my wife. Andrea. No no, Avril, that's it. No, what am I thinking of, Susan! That's the one!