The Mighty Boosh, Series 1

Howard:
I'll take you out for a meal with Mr and Mrs. Pain. Order up some violent quiche.

Both:
Captain Cabinets, Trapped in cabinets. Can he get out? Will he get out? Course he will.

Fossil:
The anti-pedian, masheeun, The Killeroo!

Howard:
What's all that about, I didn't know anything about that.

Vince:
Come on, it's just hype, you'll get the same treatment.

Howard:
Will I?

Vince:
Wait 'till you hear your introduction, come on [reassuring Howard]

Fossil:
Aaaaand fighting the Killeroo: Howard Mooooooon [silence in the crowd] [under breath] Former male prostitute...

Vince:
Sit down. Now, that was possibly the weakest start to a boxing match ever. But don't worry alright? Dance around a bit, bob and weave O.K? And keep him at bay with your jab alright? Just punch him in the snout alright? Howard, Howard?

Howard:
Have you come about the croutons?

Vince:
Just punch the big mouse. [inserts gum shield into Howard's mouth]

Vince:
[Recollections and flashbacks flashing on screen] All the images, what do they mean? How do you Kill-A-Roo?

Australian:
His balls mate, grab his flamin' balls.

Vince:
Oh right.

Australian:
[shakes head] Christ you're thick.

Bob Fossil:
[Addressing children] Why are you people so small? I can rest my drinks on your heads.

Howard:
Sometimes I wish I could take all my skin off and writhe about.

Mrs. Gideon:
That's disgusting.

Howard:
No, it's a metaphor.

Mrs Gideon:
Still disgusting.

Howard:
I'd like to think that I will be remembered many years after my own death.

Vince:
What for?

Howard:
For the things I say and do.

Vince:
The things you say? Like what, "Have you seen my light blue trousers?", "Can I have a crisp?"

Vince:
Your head's a bit like a man's thigh.

Howard:
What? There's such a thing as having too much going on in your face you know? All a bit too busy. All the features, jostling for position, yeah? The eyes screaming out? The nose? Very visually noisy, your face.

Vince:
Visually noisy?

Howard:
Yeah, it's like a brass band under a wig. Marching towards me every day.

Vince:
Look at your face, ambient, pure ambience, it's like The Orb's third album.

Howard:
Having fun are you? Gonna do a portrait are you?

Vince:
Yeah, I might have a go at her nude.

Howard:
[Grabs Vince by the neck] Let me tell you something, O.K? You go near her with a paint brush, I'll come at you like a mighty bazooka. I love that lady. Right?

Vince:
Listen, start any of that funny business?

Howard:
Yeah or else?

Vince:
You touch me, Bollo'll rinse you out like a hot flannel.

Dixon Bainbridge:
Make something up you prick, tell them he got eaten by the python.

Fossil:
The who?

Dixon Bainbridge:
The windy man, the long mover.

Fossil:
Oh yeah...

Howard:
...not as outlandish as they would have been if you had not you spent half the budget on your hair.

Vince:
My hair's an intrinsic ingredient to this show. Do you mind?

Howard:
Do you really need fifteen people working on it at any one point.

Vince:
At least. Two for fringe. One for feathering. One for height. Circumference?

Howard:
Circumference?

Vince:
Yeah hair circumference, there's a lot to think about with hair. If, if my barnet don't look right, people get furious, they tune out immediately.

Howard:
I think you underestimate the power of my acting to hold a crowd.

Vince:
I don't think so.

Howard:
I don't need a funny little hair-do for that. I do my own hair.

Vince:
The council does your hair.

Ape of Death:
Howard Moon, you are to be thrown into the pit of eternal fire for heinous crimes.

Howard:
But Bollo lead a clean life?

Ape of Death:
Yeah, but you bummed that fox.

Howard:
That's just a rumour.

Ape of Death:
No smoke without fire...which, incidentally, you'll be seeing quite a bit of from here in on!

Howard:
Just imagine the headlines; "Howard Moon, colon, Explorer." Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Vince:
"Colon explorer"? I think that's got the wrong ring to it.

Dixon Bainbridge:
I understand it took Howard Moon one month to grow that moustache. Check the insect cabinet, I think we're one caterpillar short!

Fossil:
I want everyone to mind their P's and Q's. That means NO effin' and Jeffin'.

Howard:
Pass me the first of his last words. Come on.

Vince:
Get off, gettin' them in the right order.

Howard:
We're not playing scrabble, just come on, bring it on.

North Pole Native:
That is an interesting story, but now we must eat. You must dine with us and try the local delicacy. [Other native vomits on a plate]

Howard:
Yeah, not actually that hungry.

North Pole Native:
We will be very offended if you do not eat with us.

Howard:
Suppose I could try a little bit. [Takes a spoon full and eats some vomit] Mmmm.

North Pole Native:
Ah here comes the food now, sandwiches my favourite. Somebody clear this sick away.

Dixon Bainbridge:
Listen here you Icey bastard, let's set some ground rules.

Tommy:
There are only two kinds of men who venture into the jungle at this time of night: a fool or an idiot.

Vince:
Who are you?

Rudi:
I go by many names.

Vince:
Well, what are they, then?

Rudi:
I'm getting round to that in my own good mystical time.

Howard:
Tommy was a dreamer. We all dream ... but do we really dream?

Vince:
Yeah. We do.

Howard:
Yeah, but do we really dream?

Vince:
Yeah, we do. What's your point?

Vince:
You've got to accept it, Howard. We all die.

Howard:
We all die, but do we really die?

Vince:
What is that?

Howard:
Something Tommy taught me. Never stop questioning the nature of reality.

Vince:
I know you're questioning the nature of reality, but are you really questioning it?

Howard:
Now you're getting it.

Vince:
I am getting it ... but am I really getting it?

Howard:
That's enough now.

Vince:
It is enough, but is it really enough?

Howard:
[Singing] ...where are you now Tommy.

Vince:
He's dead.

Howard:
He's not dead.

Vince:
He is dead, he fell in the ocelot pit everyone knows that.

Howard:
They never found his body?

Vince:
They never found his body? They munched him down like an old Twix.

Fossil:
[Rubs nipple] What do you know about Tommy, Tommy's dead.

Howard:
They never found Tommy's body, so under zoo regulation 409 subsection C, he's technically still the owner of the zoo and you can't sell it. Thanks.

Fossil:
Oh yeah, well let me show you something, this is a contract, it said that Tommy owned the zoo, but in the event of his disappearance, after ten years, it reverts back to Bainbridge. Suck on that sub section.

Vince:
Hey Naboo. How are you? I can't believe Bainbridge is selling the zoo.

Naboo:
He's a ballbag.

Vince:
What you gonna do, you'll probably be alright won't you, you're a shaman, it's pretty specialist job.

Naboo:
I might transform myself into a mighty hawk.

Vince:
Into what?

Naboo:
[Whispers] Mighty hawk.

Vince:
WOW

Naboo:
Either that or I'll work in Dixon's, I haven't decided.

Vince:
Do you remember when that llama got out? He went awol, he went crazy. Started HOOFIN' the public. Do you remember? Oh he was out there HOOFIN' doctors HOOFIN' Vicars, he got in the gift shop, put a false moustache on, a little girl came in and went "can I have a pencil top" HOOOOF! Haha, hoofed her out the shop. No one could get near that llama, but you Howard. You got off with it...

Howard:
...Yeah, it's one of the few ways to calm a llama down.

Tommy:
Cheese is a kind of meat A tasty yellow beef I milk it from my teat But I try to be discrete. Oh cheese. Oh cheese.

Vince:
You're in for a Hubba-Bubba nightmare.

Simon McFarnaby:
[Has a brown layer of skin around his head making him look like a conker] I've got something lined up for the Autumn

Vince:
I bet you have...

Simon McFarnaby:
Hmm?...

Howard:
So, er... just wanna say that erm it's great to have you on the show, great to be working with you. I'm really really looking forward to working with you and just working and being with you and things.

Simon McFarnaby:
Thanks, well I'll go and get warmed up.

Howard:
Alright, O.K

Vince:
Why don't you go and put your head in some vinegar...?

Vince:
This is the best job in the zoo: Millet distribution.

Howard:
Something wrong with you, you know that don't you?

Vince:
What do you mean?

Howard:
Well you're always happy aren't you, everything's fun for you. Huh? You see a peanut? The day's of to a good start. You witness some soil? It's a jamboree for Vince Noir. I need something more

Vince:
I think it's this poncho, I mean it's impossible to be unhappy in a poncho. I'm gonna get a sombrero as well. Image that: A poncho-sombrero combo, I'll be off my tits on happiness.

Vince:
I write novels. They're Charlie books.

Howard:
They're Charlie books?

Vince:
Yeah.

Howard:
What, that pink shape that you draw?

Vince:
Yeah. Charlie. Charlie is genius, right, he's made of a million pieces of old bubblegum. Imagine that. In the summer of 1976 on his way home from an Alice Cooper concert, Charlie started to melt onto the pavement. It was too hot in L.A, and he melted like a pink bitch. Luckily though, there was Eric Phillips, a local crocodile who dabbled in black magic. He took pity on Charlie and scraped him off the floor with a pair of fish slicers. He poured him into an antique soup ladle and boarded his magic carpet. Destination: Alaska. Eric Phillips decided to refreeze Charlie. but in his cold blooded, reptilian haste, he refroze him into the shape of a hoover. Charlie wasn't phased though, he just zoomed about the place sucking up Inuits. The Inuits didn't mind, they loved it in Charlie's pink, tight, warm belly pouch and they refused to come out. Charlie said "I'm cool with that" and set fire to a posh hammer to make it official. The downside was that the Inuits suffocated immediately; it was air tight in there. Charlie panicked and fired the tiny Inuit bullets into Eric's crocodile peepers. The green shape, was frozen. After a quick drink, Charlie stole Eric Phillips' magic carpet and left for Seattle. Charlie was racked with guilt, he'd just killed fifty Inuits, no one needs that. He decided to spend the rest of his life putting small hairstyles onto boots, monkey nuts, yrumpets and spanners.

Howard:
That's not a novel, that's the scribblings of a retard.

Vince:
They are novels, they're novelettes.

Howard:
It's in crayon, you birk.

Vince:
So what? I'm new school.

Howard:
New school? I'm talking about books that are gonna get published.

Vince:
Mine are published, I publish them myself.

Howard:
You photocopy them and you leave them lying around supermarkets, inside Weetabix boxes. That's not published, is it?

Fossil:
Well I got a problem with the black and white people at the zoo.

Howard:
Who?

Fossil:
You know, the black eyes Chinese people that eat sticks?

Howard:
The pandas...

Fossil:
[Doing impression of Howard] "Oh, I'm Howard Moon, I know how to read, I know all the animals names at the zoo" [Rubs Nipple] ...Yeah the pandas.

Mrs Gideon:
Who are you?

Howard:
Howard Moon, I work here at the zoo.

Mrs Gideon:
Why do you have crumbs round your eyes?

Howard:
Oh, that's just me and Vince, been playing, er, games... crumb eye, we have to get crumbs in, er, each others eyes... and erm, winner get a, rake. That's a good book. I like that book.

Mrs Gideon:
Oh have you read it?

Howard:
Oh yeah, yeah twice I read it, erm once the original and then in the paperback. Really related to the character of erm, Jonathan, thought he was great.

Mrs Gideon:
The serial killer?

Howard:
Yeah, I mean in as much as, you know, we've all, we can all relate to a killer, erm, I mean in our minds, we've all killed in our minds.

Mrs Gideon:
What are you talking about?

Howard:
Well... as a writer it's erm, it's something that I, I have to do, I have to get involved in the darker side of the human psyche.

Vince:
[Impersonating the wind] It was pretty good though wasn't it? Sounded exactly like the wind.

Howard:
Yeah, and it was blowing a gale through my mind.

Vince:
I can do other elements.

Howard:
Can you really? Can you do fog...?

Vince:
Howard?..Howard?...Howard?...Howard?..Howard?..Howard..Howard..Howard..Howard...Howard?..Howard. Howard.

Howard:
This better be good.

Vince:
You know the black bits in bananas, are they tarantula's eggs?

Howard:
...Please don't speak to me ever again in your life.

Vince:
What's your novel about?

Howard:
It's about a genius who can't get anything done because of a monkey that keeps annoying him.

Vince:
You've made a classic error.

Howard:
Have I?

Vince:
What you've done is you've focused in on the wrong character, yeah? Now, the monkey, I'm loving him, but the other guy, I'm getting nothing off him. He sounds like a dick.

Vince Noir:
Sorry about earlier. I behaved like a tit. I was having problems coping with the stardom.

Howard Moon:
Stardom? You've only been in the band since 10:30 this morning.

Vince Noir:
Yeah, but you know: the lifestyle, the drugs...

Howard Moon:
The drugs?

Vince Noir:
Yeah, well, you know, the coffees. I've had three lattes, and an Americano. I'm blazin'!

[Howard shows up to play in the band.]

Howard Moon:
Ladies...

Vince Noir:
Howard!

Howard Moon:
Hi.

Neon:
No way... not the simpleton!

Vince Noir:
He's a musical genius!

Ultra:
Well, he better be. He looks like a paedophile.

Howard:
Who are you, dealing out stories in chunks? Johnny Segment?

Bob Fossil:
Technically, you're not a Peeping Tom if it's one of your relatives.

Naboo:
Who are you?

Bryan Ferry:
I am Bryan Ferry!

Naboo:
Have you ever seen Bryan Ferry?

Bryan Ferry:
Yeah, what's your point?

Naboo:
You look like Terry Wogan.

The Hitcher:
[telling the story of his giant thumb] I didn't know what was happening, for days I was in a trance, but when I came to, there it was, like a fleshy maraca: a thumb of GIGANTIC proportions! "A miracle! A miracle!" I said. "You're a true wizard, how can I ever repay you!?" And he said to me "Five hundred euros". "FIVE HUNDRED EUROS!? YOU WON'T SEE PENNY ONE FROM ME, YOU SLAG!". And as I raised my thumb up to smash his tiny skull in, I could see in his little insect face, I could see him thinking "Oh, I created that monster! I created that thumb, and now it's killing me! My own beast and creation, killing me dead! The sweet irony!". I think he was saying that, although it was a long time ago, and in hindsight, he could've just been shitting himself!

The Hitcher:
"(Playing slap bass) Ohhh, you love it you slags!"

The Hitcher:
[singing] Trapped in a box by a cockney nutjob, have a cup of tea, have a cup of tea! I'm the Hitcher, let me put you in the picture, creeping in you room in the dead of night, with me solo polo vision!

Piper Twins:
That's right!

The Hitcher:
I'm a cockney geezer, watch me bleed ya! I knew the Ripper when he was just a nipper, I taught him how to slice, I cut him up a treat! Pound ya banana!

Piper Twins:
Two pound ya pear!

The Hitcher:
Pound ya banana!

Piper Twins:
Two pound ya pear!

The Hitcher:
Pound ya banana!

Piper Twins:
Two pound ya pear!

The Hitcher:
Fourteen shillings for your melons!

Piper Twins:
Oh yea! We're the Piper Twins! We're Jim and Jackie Piper! We cut through the night like a windscreen wip-ing you away, like raindrops, don't mess with the boys!

The Hitcher:
Shut yer noise! Coming in strong like a freakshow nightmare, dancing skeletons, white blue and yellow uns, moving through the shadows with the speed of a cat, and if you cross us, we'll cut ya!

Piper Twins:
And you ain't gonna like that!

The Hitcher:
I'm bad juju! I use voodoo if I chose to, to harness the forces of evil to abuse you! With power, a polo, an evil magnet, we're sucking out ya soul!

All:
And you ain't gonna like that!

Howard Moon:
Get me an ape suit, for bananas and a hot towel.