Patsy had them ... Patsy had the Ecstas ... Ecstasy, sweetie. I just said no. No to drugs. No-no-no.
Well something kept you going till three o'clock this morning.
Just a little coke, sweetie.
I should have sued. I was cut to ribbons, scarred for life.
Extraordinary how it managed to hit you in exactly the same place behind each ear?
It's taken me all bloody day to do a journey that takes a couple of hours. How many bastards need to look at my ticket and then stare inexplicably at a crap computer screen for hours on end? What is the point of asking me if I packed my bag myself? 'Oh, no, I let some total bastard of Middle Eastern origins pack it for me?'
Where have you been?
Ah, off the beaten track ... Andalusia, forgotten Catalania. My own secret Majorca.
More like my own secret arsehole. It was a shitty bit of coastline ruined by patronizing English gits. 'Oh you must come over and share a rather fine local Rioja. Oh, piss of you sad twats!'
Oh, dear. Mr Dictionary seems to have deserted us again.
Listen, you old tart. Can we not think of a nice way of putting this? How about 'We gazed on canpes and feasted on roasted suckling pig and juicy carciofi beneath a bewildering array of stars beside a pool brimming with azure blue...' You can't put 'We all sat around and ate free foreign crap then vomited.'
Listen, I may well have a gun in my bag. I will shoot you and try very hard to turn it on myself if you leave, all right?
I'm so sorry I fainted, but I never was very good with nappies of the brown variety.