Only Fools and Horses, Series 3 (1983)

Del:
There are 2,000 stories in the Naked City and this plonker is looking for a basket on wheels.

Del:
Well, why don't you tell them what happened to poor Rita Alldridge then?

Rodney:
Yes! Good idea! What happened to Rita Alldridge then?

Del:
Last Friday night she was indecently assaulted over by the adventure playground.

Rodney:
No! Did she report it?

Del:
Yeah, I saw her this morning, she'd just been down the police station.

Rodney:
Right. There you are, you see; that's exactly the sort of thing... Hang on a minute, if this happened on Friday night, how come it's taken her 'til Wednesday to report it?

Del:
Because she didn't know she'd been indecently assaulted until this morning when the bloke's cheque bounced.

Rodney:
She's very intelligent actually. We got on really well.

Del:
Yeah, they do say opposites attract, don't they?

Dr. Becker:
Don't worry, he's got legs like Nijinsky.

Del:
(puzzled) Nijinsky is a racehorse.

Rodney:
No, Del, he means Nijinsky the Russian ballet dancer.

Dr. Becker:
No I don't!

Grandad:
(bedbound) Del Boy, I'd like to be cremated.

Del:
Well you'll have to wait till the morning, 'cos they'll be closed now!

Rodney:
I am 24 years old, I have two GSEs, thirteen years of schooling and three terms at an adult education centre behind me, right? And with all that, what have I become? I am a lookout.

Del:
No, Rodney, you're wrong. You're not just a lookout, you're a bad lookout!

[After Rodney announces he's starting a business with Mickey Pearce]

Grandad:
You wanna watch that young Pearcey, he's a bit too fly for my liking. He'd rob his own grandmother, he would!

Rodney:
Oh don't be stupid, Grandad...that was never proved.

Mickey Pearce:
What are these things?

Del:
Those? They are lawnmower engines.

Rodney:
Lawnmower engines?

Del:
Listen, they're not ordinary lawnmower engines.

Rodney:
(interested) No?

Del:
No, they're broken lawnmower engines.

Del:
Well, I've gotta admire yer bottle Rodders - I must admit. You've been in the business five minutes and already you've opened up a Spanish branch. You've cornered the World market on broken lawnmower engines - what's your partner doing now, is he buying second-hand pedalos?

Rodney:
No, no, no, nothing like that, no, we're - we're going into the self-catering holiday trade.

Del:
Cor, what on 200 nicker?

Rodney:
Yeah well, we're starting in a small way.

Grandad:
What you got, a Wendy House?

Rodney:
Boycie would scalp you if dandruff had a going rate.

Del:
When we see the gamekeeper, when we get down there, we pay him 25 quid.

Rodney:
What? And he gives us a fishing permit?

Del:
No, he shows us the hole in the fence.

Rodney:
I knew it.

Del:
It's called business.

Rodney:
It's called stealing!

Grandad:
No it ain't, Rodney.

Del:
Listen to your grandad.

Grandad:
It's called poaching.

Policeman:
They called him "The Axe Murderer". He murdered a group of local fisherman. (Del and Rodney look at each other nervously) Oh well. Have a nice weekend.

Del:
It's blowing a ruddy typhoid out there!

Rodney:
It's a typhoon...

Del:
Hmm? Oh, good idea Rodney, stick the kettle on. We'll have a nice cup of tea.

Del:
(when Rodney claims that the Axe Murderer is nearby) So what are you telling me then? The psycho's up stairs having a kip?

Grandad:
Well he could be up there, Del Boy.

Del:
Well I shouldn't let it worry you Grandad, I should think the three bears have probably eaten him by now!

Rodney:
Ah, Picadilly. Right, that's mine and I have a hotel, so that's twelve hundred pounds.

Grandad:
Twelve hundred pounds for a hotel next to a smelly old waterworks?

Rodney:
What?

Grandad:
All them sewers. I'd rather sleep in the car, or look for a bed and breakfast.

Rodney:
No, you don't understand. Bless his little... Look, it's in the rules.

Grandad:
Twelve hundred quid-it's scandalous. I ain't a tourist you know.

Del:
Ah, Park Lane, I think that's one of my properties Rodney.

Rodney:
Course it is. You own everything on the board.

Del:
No I don't, no I don't. Look, you've got Coventry Street, Grandad has the waterworks and all that. Ah yeah, Park Lane with one hotel, two thousand please.

Rodney:
Two... hold on, according to this it's only fifteen hundred.

Del:
Yes I know, but I've put you in the penthouse suite haven't I?

Grandad:
He's a psycho!

Chief of Security/Axe Murderer:
Do you have any idea what a "psycho", as you so eloquently put it, is?

Grandad:
Of course I have. He is a geezer what dresses up in his mother's clothes.

Chief of Security/Axe Murderer:
Is that a police helicopter?

Del:
No, it's Barratts!

Del:
You don't know nothing about antiques, do you? I mean, you know, dealers often put little holes in items like these to give it that sort of distressed look.

Rodney:
Distressed? Del, this thing looks panic-stricken.

Rodney:
Del, for once in your life be yourself, right? And you don't need none of them soppy French phrases neither.

Del:
What do you mean, "soppy phrases"? La bonne vie, you stupid ...

Rodney:
See what I mean? Del, you can't speak French. You're still struggling with English.

Del:
What is it with you, Rodney? Do you like hospital food or something?

Rodney:
I'm just being honest with you. Let's face it, Del, most of your French phrases come straight out of Citroën manuals, don't they?

Rodney:
Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home.

Trigger:
You've got a hat now, have you, Dave?

DCI Roy Slater:
I see Boycie's selling pirate videos now.

Del:
chuckles Yeah... Uh, yeah.

DCI Roy Slater:
What number King's Avenue does he live?

Del:
I dunno, but you can't miss it. It's the one with the Jolly Roger flying from the chimney.

DCI Roy Slater:
Oh, that takes me back, Del. Do you remember when we were kids and we used to go over the pond and play at pirates. You were Dan Tempest. Trigger was Long John Silver... What character did I play Del?"

Del:
You played the bloke what walked the plank.

DCI Roy Slater:
Oh, yeah. The bloke that walked the plank. I was always the bloke that walked the plank. I must have been in and out of that pond more times than a duck's head! I always wanted to be Bluebeard!

Del:
Well you should have said so.

DCI Roy Slater:
I did say so, but you would never let me!

Del:
I did once.

DCI Roy Slater:
Oh yeah, I remember, that was the day Bluebeard had to walk the plank!

DCI Roy Slater:
Right! Down to business! The face that dropped the microwave oven in the market! What did he look like?

Del:
Oh, he was about average height.

Grandad:
He was a great big tall fella!

Rodney:
Oh, he was little more than a dwarf!

Grandad:
Age?

Rodney:
About 25.

Grandad:
Middle 50s!

Del:
He was just a kid!

DCI Roy Slater:
What about his ethnic group?

Del:
Well, I didn't notice anyone with him.

DCI Roy Slater:
No, I mean was he Caucasian?

Grandad:
No, he was a white fella!

Rodney:
He was African, I think!

DCI Roy Slater:
Sorry did you want a cup of tea, Del?

Del:
No, it's alright Slater, I had one yesterday.

DCI Roy Slater:
According to you and your family we are looking for a six foot seven inch dwarf, aged between 15 and 50, white male with oriental features who's as black as Newgates Knocker. Oh yeah and he wears a Deaf aid.

Grandad:
He was just a bloke in the market.

Del Boy:
Leave it out Grandad. If Mr Slater was here to belive our descriptions he'd have his men out searching for someone who was a cross between Tom Thumb and the Jolly Green Giant.

DCI Roy Slater:
With a Deaf aid

Rodney:
I'm saying nothing till I phone my solicitor.

DCI Roy Slater:
Go on then phone your solicitor

Rodney:
I haven't got a solicitor.

DCI Roy Slater:
Don't waste my bloody time then.

Del:
No I give you fifty quid and you let us go.

DCI Roy Slater:
I didn't hear that Del.

Del:
I said [louder] I GIVE YOU FIFTY QUID

Rodney:
Del.

DCI Roy Slater:
Come on Del. Who nicked it?

Del:
They are free to go, ain't they?

DCI Roy Slater:
Yeah, they're free to go, no charges.

Del:
And you got nothing on me?

DCI Roy Slater:
No, you've got immunity from prosecution, you've got less chance of a pull than the Queen. For the third and last time of asking, who nicked the microwave off the back of the lorry?

Del:
I did! (holds up immunity letter triumphantly)

Del:
Who are you two after? Not the gruesome twosome, are you?

Mickey Pearce:
They're alright!

Del:
What do you mean, "alright"? They are so ugly that they even look alike.

Rodney:
Del, they happen to be sisters.

Del:
Sisters? (to the girls) Oi, girls! Seen much of Cinderella since the wedding?

Del:
You don't want to see what it's like in the early hours, Grandad. It's like the end of the world. It's full of drug addicts, glue sniffers, winos. Do you know what? If a nightingale sang now in Berkeley Square, someone would eat it.

Rodney:
I have had nothing to eat since I've been here.

Del:
Why's that? Been too frightened?

Rodney:
No, I forgot the tin opener.

Del:
Why didn't you pop down for it?

Rodney:
Del, desperate men on the run don't pop home to borrow a tin opener.

Karen (bar maid):
Do you know that overcoat you sold my dad?

Del:
Yeah?

Karen (bar maid):
It's got a great, big lump in the back.

Del:
Of course! It's genuine camel hair, ain't it?

Denzil:
He's cool, I like it. I tell you, if he wasn't so white, I'd swear he was black.

Del:
Yeah, he is white, ain't he?

Denzil:
The whitest man I've ever seen in all my life.

Rodney:
I'm not ever so white!

Del:
You are. You'd make an albino look bronzed.

Del:
We gotta think of a way out of this.

Rodney:
I got it! We could say it was caused by paint fumes.

Del:
Paint fumes? When Corinne comes back in here, she's gonna find her kettle's been knackered, her kitchen's been turned into a Turkish bath and she's got a Kentucky Fried Canary at the bottom of her cage. And we're gonna say it's paint fumes?

Del:
I might be able to offer you a much better deal my son. I could get this pub decorated to the exact same standard as Brendan, and it would cost your brewery a mere £2000.

Rodney:
£2000?

Grandad:
That must be a tempting offer, eh Rodney?

Rodney:
Well he's a born businessman isnt he?

Mike:
Hang about, hang about. Why should I turn down an offer of £1000 and accept one of £2000?

Del:
Cos of all the advantages it has to offer, like my specialised profit sharing scheme. Let me explain how it works. The £2000 would be disbursed thus: there would be £500 for vous. £500 for vee.

Mike:
What you mean I get 500 quid?

Del:
Oh yes.

Mike:
And what happens to the £1000 that's left over?

Del:
We give that to the Irishman and let him do the job.

Mike:
(grinning) We got a deal, Mr. Trotter.

Grandad:
Where do I get a canary from?

Rodney:
Well why don't you try the boot menders (!)

(Following a police chase, Del angrily returns home. He slams the flat door and throws a suitcase across the room.)

Granded:
Had a good day, Del?

Del:
Oh, good day?! Good day?! Oh, the best Grandad! The very bloody best! I've been chased by a gendarme, attacked by Pussycat Willum, almost caught rabies and it's all this dipstick's fault!

Rodney:
[entering the flat] Oh, he don't half exaggerate.

Del:
Exaggerate?! You should have been with me in that alley, Rodney! It was like Call of the Wild! Why didn't you warn me that copper was coming?!

Rodney:
Because I didn't see him!

Del:
You didn't see him?! What do you want me to get you, radar or something?!

Reg:
I never raised a hand to your mother, Rodney, except in self-defence!

Grandad:
Hospital bed? What's wrong with you, Reggie?

Del:
Something serious, I hope!

Del:
(talking about his father) Don't be fooled by him, Rodney. He's had everything from Galloping Lurgy to Saturday Night Fever! I was doing some homework once and I asked him what a cubic foot was. He said he didn't know, but he tried to have a week off work with it!

Del:
It's a right blinding Christmas this has turned out to be, innit! I mean, some people get wise men bearing gifts; we get a wally with a disease!

Rodney:
Well I can't wait to fill out my next passport application form. Mother's name: Joan Mavis Trotter; father's name: Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.

Reg:
If your mother was alive now, I'd kill her.

Rodney:
You're only one letter out! Look, the only difference between us is a B.

Del:
Yeah and we all know what the B stands for!

Del:
(after finding out that his father faked an illness) They ran his name through the computer but they didn't have a patient called Trotter. But they did have a porter called Trotter. He left two weeks ago with 57 blankets, 133 pair of rubber gloves and the chief gynaecologist's Lambretta!!

Del:
Don't you get septic with me Rodney!

Del:
(pointing to an assortment of household items made from crude oil) What have all these things got in common?

Rodney:
They're all nicked?