— I grew up reading about myself in his books.
— How was that?
— Not always easy. A little more than you wanted to know about yourself.
— And unless I'm much mistaken your job still pays you rather a lot of money whilst Honey here earns 20 pence a week flogging her guts out in London's worst record store.
— Yes! And I haven't got hair, I've got feathers. And I've got funny goggly eyes and I'm attracted to cruel men. Actually, no one will marry me because my boosies have actually started shrinking.
Max: — We really are the most desperate lot of under-achievers. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. In fact, I think it's something we should take pride in. I'm gonna give the last brownie as a prize to the saddest act here.
William: — Bern.
Bernie: — Well, obviously it's me, isn't it? I mean, I work in the city in a job I don't understand and everyone keeps getting promoted above me. I haven't had a girlfriend since, well, since puberty. And nobody fancies me. And if these cheeks get any chubbier, they never will.
Honey: — Nonsense. I fancy you.
Bernie: — Really?
Honey: — Yeah.
The Constitution ensures limited government, if there's no right of privacy.
And ever since I left my mother
It's much harder to know
How to make my own life here
How to make my own home
— Look, if you're interested in whether I am married or not...
— Oh, I'm not interested at all.
— Well, I'm not.
— That's very interesting.
— Tell me, who runs up that flag? Your wife?
— No, my flag steward.
— Who mixes the cocktails? Your wife?
— No, my cocktail steward.
— Look, if you're interested in whether I am married or not...
— Oh, I'm not interested at all.
— Well, I'm not.